


leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots

by amandaskankovich



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:18:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3939970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandaskankovich/pseuds/amandaskankovich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Post season 5 Ian looks for Mickey only to find out he’s left the South Side for parts unknown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots

If you think it long and mad,  
the wind of banners  
that passes through my life,  
and you decide  
to leave me at the shore  
of the heart where I have roots,  
remember  
that on that day,  
at that hour,  
I shall lift my arms  
and my roots will set off  
to seek another land.  
Pablo Neruda

 

Lie on your bed and throw a ball into the air and catch it.  
Pretend your life is an eighties movie you stupid piece of shit.  
*  
Now you are in a bar.  
Or no, now you are at a party?  
Whatever the case you haven’t paid for this drink in your hand or any drink all night.  
Goody good for you. (Unless it’s a party in which case who the fuck cares?)  
You are very drunk it is a heavy, hot weight on you.  
Then there is a voice in your ear saying let’s go away.  
Okay.  
Away.  
Tongue in your mouth.  
Skin under your nails.  
Wet skin.  
(Did you ever enjoy this? Was this ever any fun?)  
Your palm on his back.  
Focus.  
*  
“That was fun.” He says after.  
You are dizzy.  
Dressed.  
Stumbling out of his house.  
Vomiting next to someone’s car.  
*  
You tried to leave a message the other day.  
But his voicemail’s full now.  
*  
She said every now and then he sends money.  
So he’s probably alive.  
There’s that.  
*  
Low fee therapy you get what you pay for.  
“How’s the new regimen going?”  
“Better. I guess. I’m not sleeping as much anyway.”  
(You can get it up.)  
“You need to stop drinking though.”  
“Yeah.”  
“Ian I’m serious. It’s not good for you.”  
She is Fiona’s age. A grad student. Pretty in a kind of tightly wound way. Wears flowy scarves. Too many rings on her hand.  
You like her.  
You do.  
She radiates exhaustion but caring.  
Still.  
You’ve got no time for this guilt trip shit and you won’t do for her what you couldn’t do for him.  
Offer that much patience.  
“Our time’s up isn’t it?” You remind her.  
She looks at the clock, sighs, “See you next month.”  
*  
Debbie doesn’t talk much anymore.  
Not after the abortion.  
Not after the break up.  
She sits and watches reality tv. She looks at you as you walk in and you sit beside her on the couch.  
She leans her head on your shoulder and you lean your head toward hers.  
*  
Two weeks ago his voice mail wasn’t full.  
You can’t remember exactly what you said but something along the lines of, “Where the fuck did you go?”  
He was stepping on your lines.  
Is that the expression?  
But this is what you do not him.  
You picture Yevgeny crawling down the stairs with no father there to catch him as ridiculous as that scenario could be like his mother would ever let him get that far without her.  
But you keep seeing that baby cracking open like an egg.  
“Come back, okay?”  
You might have said.  
“Please?”  
You might have said.  
He never calls back. Never texts.  
But you can see him there. Arms crossed, looking away from you.  
You can hear him and get mad enough to throw your fucking phone into the wall.  
Come back?  
“No.”  
*  
You call Mandy’s cell and Kenyatta answers it. Angry and entitled demanding to know where Mandy is.  
You find out Mickey showed up a few days earlier to visit his sister.  
Take her out for a drink.  
They never came back from the drinks.  
You are so proud of Mickey you want to cry.  
A little while later Mandy mails you an envelope with a small pink seashell inside.  
No return address.  
And then you do cry.  
*  
Lip and his professor call it off.  
Or rather she resigns after Amanda spills the beans about the multiple affairs with students and she and her weird fucking husband leave for parts unknown.  
It’s funny but for all his talk of love Lip doesn’t seem too broken up about it.  
He seems more upset that Amanda won’t return his texts.  
*  
You end up at the beach with Liam and Debbie.  
She’s reading a book with her feet in the sand.  
You help Liam build a sand castle.  
You look and don’t find a seashell to match Mandy’s.  
You convince after much coaxing Debbie to wade into the water for a little bit.  
It’s not a bad afternoon.  
*  
His voicemail remains full but you keep calling it.  
You talk into the silence.  
Ask about his day.  
*  
Love suits Fiona.  
It always does.  
She’s all smiles and trying so hard to pretend she’s not.  
She wraps her arms around him, kisses him on the cheek, hands you money for groceries, floats out the door on a cloud of cartoon hearts swirling around her head.  
*  
Svetlana takes you up on your offer for a drink.  
Eventually.  
After much prodding.  
Kev babysits and she does not let you see her (his, your, the) boy.  
But she tells you he’s walking.  
She smiles so proud.  
3 drinks and a walk home later she kisses you quick and soft and closed mouth on the lips..  
Walks inside the Milkovich house.  
Does not look back at you.  
She smelled nice.  
She always does.  
*  
Through the glass Carl tells you delighted how he’s running all kinds of shit in juvie.  
You try to smile.  
But you can’t take your eyes off the fresh black eye.  
You wonder how well he’s eating.  
You remember Mickey telling you how the food was never great.  
*  
You get a text from your mother one day out off the blue.  
All too many emojis and I <3 u’s.  
*  
One day you see Linda wating outside of a karate school..  
She stubs out her cigarette quickly when her two boys run out.  
She doesn’t see you and you’re glad for that.  
She’d looked happy.  
*  
One day you call expecting the voicemail is full message but instead get a recording telling you the number is no longer in service.  
You get drunk and trip on the stairs walking back into your house.  
You get a giant welt on your forehead.  
*  
You want to believe he’ll come back to you.  
Eventually.  
You want to think he knows you know you fucked it all up.  
This wasn’t how this was supposed to end. This silence this lack of finality.  
That couldn’t have been a real ending? That shit you spewed that day?  
But it was so half assed.  
Unworthy of what they’d had.  
You want to walk home one day and see him there, see her there.  
You keep picturing it.  
You’d paint it if you could paint.  
You’d use reds, blues, pinks, swirling swirling swirling.  
You’d stab the canvas with your brush like what movies tell you painters are supposed to be.  
*  
Instead though the night is warm.  
You find Debbie laying on her back in the pool.  
You climb in with her.  
You reach your hand out and she closes her fingers around yours.  
That’s what you do instead.


End file.
